


The Wind Knows Best

by reeby10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cold Weather, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Getting Together, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Walking, Wind - Freeform, sitting by the fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15698781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/pseuds/reeby10
Summary: Draco wasn’t sure if it was the gust of wind or some sort of magic that blew them together that day, but either way, he was glad for it.





	The Wind Knows Best

Draco was bundled from head to toe in deference for the unseasonably cold day. He would have rather stayed inside, but he really did need to get a few things potions ingredients. So out in the streets of Diagon Alley he went.

Earlier, when he’d first gone into the shop, it had been drizzling. Now that had cleared up somewhat, leaving just a cold, blustery afternoon. Draco adjusted the collar of his coat, trying to keep it closed. He should have gone for the sticking charm the tailor had suggested, but it hadn’t seemed very important in the heat of summer when he’d bought the coat. It certainly did now.

He was so distracted by trying to keep the wind from worming its way beneath his clothes that a big gust swept him almost entirely off his feet. He stumbled, then suddenly his body met another, his arms wrapping around their shoulders in an effort to keep himself from falling. A second later he was blinking into the face of Neville Longbottom, who looked quite as shocked as Draco himself felt.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Neville said immediately, though his hands didn’t move from where they’d gripped Draco’s hips to steady himself.

For some reason, Draco couldn’t stop looking at Neville or make himself back away. It had been years since they last saw each other. Years and many, many changes in both of their lives. Draco had watched some of Neville’s through articles in The Daily Prophet, but he’d mostly tried to stay away from news of his yearmates. He had his own life to pick up the pieces for.

The years in between had obviously been very kind to Neville. He’d filled out, broad shoulders obvious even under his heavy coat, and grown taller than Draco was now. In a word, he looked amazing.

“Are you alright?” Neville asked, voice full of concern when Draco didn’t say anything. “I guess the wind just got us both wrong.”

Draco nodded, clamping down on the stirring of attraction he could feel deep in his gut. “Yes, it seems so,” Draco replied, then stopped, at a loss for what else to say. It wasn’t a sensation he was particularly familiar with.

Thankfully, Neville smiled, somehow becoming even more handsome in that moment, and seemingly unperturbed by Draco’s awkwardness. His hands flexed on Draco’s waist, sending a shiver down his spine and making Draco clutch his shoulders a little tighter in response. It made him realize how very close together they were, faces only inches apart, the cold wind barely finding room to squeeze between their bodies.

Just as the silence seemed to stretch on too long, Neville took a deep breath and blurted, “Would you like to get a cuppa? With me?”

Draco inclined his head, surprised and a little confused, and Neville flushed. It was a good look on him, Draco decided in a distracted sort of way. He wouldn’t mind seeing more of that.

“I mean, Findelbrun’s Tea Shoppe is just down the way and a hot cuppa sounds wonderful right now,” Neville said, more slowly this time. “So, er, would you like to go with me?”

Before Draco could think better of it — could think about the social consequences of the two of them being seen out together, though more for Neville than himself — Draco was nodding, making Neville smile that far too attractive smile again. “I’d love to.”

***

After their date at Findelbrun’s, Draco couldn’t stop thinking about Neville. It was strange, since he’d put a lot of effort in the past few years into scrubbing away the memories of his yearmates, particularly the ones most closely connected with Potter. He figured it was better that way, safer for him to forgot how horrible everything had been back then.

But now Neville was all Draco could think about. Neville had been… wonderful. He was kind and quietly funny and so different from the skittish boy Draco remembered from school. It just made Draco want to see him more.

Apparently Neville thought the same, because just two days later, Draco received an owl inviting him out on another date. He wrote a response almost immediately, only wondering later if that would make him seem desperate. After some thought, he decided it didn’t matter. Much worse had been thought — and said — of him.

Their second date took place at the nicest restaurant Draco could think of, The Statleton, and while the food was good, it was afterward that Draco enjoyed the most. Once the the last bit of dessert had been eaten and the bill paid, they made their way out onto the street. It was late enough that Diagon Alley was mostly empty, giving them privacy for their walk.

As they walked, close together because of the wind that just never seemed to stop this time of year, their hands brushed together every so often. Draco kept his eyes on the beautifully colored autumn leaves that danced down the street, trying to fight down a blush. He wanted to take Neville’s hand, but he wasn’t sure if that was allowed. Going to dinner and walking together was one thing, actually holding hands was another in his opinion.

Draco just wasn’t sure yet where this thing with Neville was going, or if Neville wanted anyone else to know. People had seen them together at this point of course, but holding hands implied a deeper relationship than just dinner companions. It was something that would surely make The Daily Prophet, and Draco was quite sure he would not be coming out well from that. Despite being pardoned by the Wizengamot, there were many in the wizarding world who still hated him.

He was startled from his thoughts by Neville taking things into his own hands, quite literally. As their hands brushed past each other, Neville turned his and reached around to intertwine his fingers with Draco’s. Draco was so startled that he almost stopped in the middle of the street.

Neville was smiling when Draco looked over at him, eyes wide. “This alright?” he asked, voice soft.

Draco just nodded, blushing even harder, because of course it was alright with _him_. He was just surprised it was alright Neville. Then again, ever since they’d run into each other, Neville had surprised him in a lot of way. Truly, neither of them were the people they were back at school.

In any case, he wasn’t one to back give back a gift freely given. It was the Slytherin in him. He just squeezed Neville’s hand and continued walking.

Awhile later, as they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, Draco sighed a little wistfully. Neville made a questioning noise. “Just a little nostalgic for quidditch,” he said. “I haven’t played or seen a game since school.”

“You’ll have to come with me to a game sometime,” Neville replied, making Draco look over at him in confusion. He didn’t recall Neville being particularly invested in quidditch, but perhaps he’d just developed the interest a little late. “I get tickets from Ron sometimes since he works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I, er, haven’t actually gone to a game, but if you want to…”

Draco smiled, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest. It was sweet of Neville to offer, especially when it obviously wasn’t actually one of his interests. “Yes, I’d really like that.”

Looked like their next date was all planned out.

***

Despite the promise of a quidditch game, they decided to wait on that until the weather was better. Instead, Draco invited Neville over to his house for dinner one night. It was a much less grand house than the one he’d grown up in, which had been seized by the Ministry after the war. He didn’t mind too much; this house was smaller, but it was much more to his taste.

It was a little cool inside, so Draco lit a fire in the hearth to warm things up. It was a good thing he did since after dinner — which was delicious, if he did say so himself — they made their way to the couch in front of it with glasses of brandy.

They started sitting a respectable distance away, but soon drifted together, Draco curled against Neville’s side as they talked. If his mother was around to look disapprovingly at him, he might have said that it was because it was warm there. It was, but that certainly wasn’t the only reason. He liked being close to Neville, liked the sense of safety and contentment he got from Neville’s arm around his shoulder as they sat and talked.

Draco was feeling quite warm from the inside out, from Neville’s presence and the roaring fire and the last dregs of his brandy. His whole body seemed to be filled with a bone deep contentment. And all of it was thanks to Neville.

“Thank you,” Draco whispered into the dimly lit room, the gleaming fire the only light now that night had fully fallen outside. He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he didn’t want to take it back.

Neville smiled and drank the last of his own brandy, then leaned over to press a kiss to Draco’s lips. Draco melted into, arching his back a little as Neville’s hand slid down from his shoulder to his hip, holding him close. They kissed, soft and leisurely, for several minutes before separating and relaxing back into the couch to watch the fire.

Draco wasn’t sure if it was the gust of wind or some sort of magic that blew them together that day, but either way, he was glad for it. He wouldn’t have thought before that his life would lead him into Neville Longbottom’s arms. But for the first time in a long time he felt really and truly happy.


End file.
